


The Legend of Geommu

by Blind Dyslexic Bat (CorinneConnersConnie)



Category: Groovl1n, VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Rating May Change, havent decided, may become explicit, mentions of abuse, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorinneConnersConnie/pseuds/Blind%20Dyslexic%20Bat
Summary: The legend of Geommu states that a young boy in Shilla had an unusual talent for sword dance. His talent brought him great fame, even in the enemy kingdom, Baekje. This is that tale with a dash of romance and tragedy thrown in along the way.
Relationships: Wonwoong, i do make the rules, kim Wonshik| Ravi / Park Chiwoong | Xydo, ravi/xydo, thats the new ship name
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10
Collections: RAVI El Dorado Collab





	The Legend of Geommu

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING**There are mentions of Wonshik being abused by his father but it doesn't go into detail and the only thing explicit is him getting kicked in the chest during training**  
> This is part of a collab created to honor Wonshik's newest album El Dorado where each writer was tasked with writing a one shot based of their assigned song. I chose to do Knife Dance which allowed me to bust out my love for history once again. Now I was bad a not able to fit my piece into just a one shot although this could be read as one and left with an ending that is the readers job to decide what happened. However I will be updating with more chapters in the future so I hope you like this and will come back. Also there will be more romance in the future chapters but I couldn't get to it within this except for like a millisecond.

“Keep your shoulders square and elbows up. If you give even just an inch you will lose your life.” The sakura blossoms cascaded down around the yard as pieces of steel clashed hard and swift upon each other. Much like a wave eroding a cliff side the two met until the weaker could hold no longer and crumbled. Except in this instance there was no reprieve for the abused dirt beneath the water.

“Please. I don’t want to do this anymo-”, the sound of a foot connecting with someone's chest is a far cry from the violence the sound of swords communicates;yet in this instance the injustice yelled far louder.

“I would have preferred your mother to have kept spitting out worthless girls. It seems that the only way this family will keep its honor and prestige is through their marriages. Perhaps I should kill you,” the blade kissed Wonshik’s throat, which seemed to him, the only instance of a kiss he’d ever get if his father’s anger grew anymore.

“Why can’t I be a scholar? I’m smart enough father and if I’m truly not I’m sure we could find someone to teach me more.”

“We are a family of warriors sworn to fight for and protect our king. The only way for us to die is on the battlefield,” a flourish of the wrist and he was finally able to breathe freely again, “and while I’d prefer you to take our duty head on with pride I’m afraid the opprobrium you’ll bring to us will surely come at your end.”

“Why must I die to bring pride to this family? What purpose does that serve to be another body rotting in a field when it won’t stop the future wars that will inevitably come along?”

As if he could no longer stand to look at Wonshik without striking him, his father turned away to leave, “Smart enough to be a scholar huh? Yet you can’t understand that your death will only bring  **disgrace** . I assure you that if you cannot properly block my strikes when I come back from my campaign in two months your body will sooner join those in the fields.”

The rest of the day went by in a blur as Wonshik sat in his quarters fighting between running away or waiting to be killed by his own father. A man known as the bloodhound of Silla who always found his prey in the end and ripped them to shreds. So how could he run, but how could he stay to face annihilation all the same. Sure he could put in a good effort to get better, but he could barely lift up the sword and keep up the constant movement required of him even if it was only 5 pounds heavy. In the end he decided that while he could barely survive living in his own home, the beatings and mistreatment would be preferable to the reality of starving on the streets if he lived past two months.

* * *

“Come on Wonshik it's only 15 strikes. Keep your breathing even and measured, stance wide but not too much so, shoulders back, and elbows up.” Releasing all the breath within his lungs he started the sequence that should have become second nature at this point. Unfortunately not even a month and a half could make Wonshik’s body move the way he wanted. Five strikes in and he could already feel his arms lowering slightly below where they should be and as his father said that would be his death. Maybe if he at least could show him he knew what to do then he would be allowed to live on.

“Fuck!” Lost in thought Wonshik failed to notice how much fatigue was grasping on to his limbs and pulling him down into his grave. As he went into his next strike he couldn't put his arms up fast enough and his foot slipped causing him to tumble face first into the dirt. Unscathed he rose only to see that his sword had not gained such an auspicious fate. It had flown up and out of Wonshik’s hand to battle furiously with a rock and lose. Old and of low quality the swords faults were only now doubled as it lay shattered.

Delirium set upon Wonshik’s mind and he sat laughing uncontrollably as tears fell endlessly, continuing his legacy of erosion. Except this time it was his will that gave way to the broken boy that sat behind it. It took at least an hour for him to finally pick up the fragments of himself and inspect the state of things. It was long enough for the sun to finally rise above the horizon and lay light upon his failings.

The sword had split just after a foot and the latter two feet lay in dozens of shards across the area. However the part of the blade attached to the hilt remained so and gave Wonshik an idea. If he held onto less weight then perhaps he could get through the sequence and slowly build up to using a full sword. Excited Wonshik gathered up all the pieces in a cloth and stored it in a place that wouldn’t be discovered. It may have been a shit sword given to him because it mattered not what happened to it, but his father would still beat him for this when he came back.

Once that was taken care of Wonshik grabbed some money he had saved in his quarters and ran off to the market. Despite the early hour that it was the streets were already full of people preparing for the upcoming festival in three days. Wonshik had to weave between the people earning him more than a few yells as he made his way to the blacksmith.

“Hakyeon! I need you to make me a sword like this?”

“Broken and unusable?” The blacksmith turned away from stoking his forge to see a boy

he knew well despite his distaste in the art of fighting. It was clear to Hakyeon that the boy hadn’t even slept a wink by the state of his face and his request was only confirming the matter to him.

“No, I need a short sword of this length or near it. If I can get used to using this then I can increase my strength at a reasonable rate and learn to really use a sword.”

“Alright not the craziest thing you’ve ever said to me without your dad here. Very well it should take me about a day to complete. I’ll use this hilt for the new sword,”he grabbed the broken sword from Wonshik’s hands and proceeded to remove what was left of the blade, “This seems to be around a foot so if I should finish it earlier I’ll bring it to your home.”

“No. You know that clearing in the words by the foot path that no one uses since they think it’s cursed? You know on account of all the people who turn up dead there?”

“Can’t even trust your own family to keep this from your father can you? Very well, I know the clearing you talk of, but without a new sword to replace the old I doubt he will be placated.”

“Well can you make another blade to match the previous one and before my father returns we can swap out the blades since I won’t need the short one anymore.”Hakyeon said nothing, but held his hand out nonetheless. In it Wonshik plopped his bag of coins, thanked the smith, and headed to the aforementioned clearing. If he couldn’t practice with a sword a stick of a similar length and heft would have to do until then.

* * *

Wonshik had indeed intended to practice using a stick but running all the way back to the clearing seemed to be all his body was capable of. The instant he got to his destination and stopped pushing himself he laid down face first into the grass. Despite all the might he put into getting up, he just couldn’t and instead fell into a deep sleep. One so much so that it wasn’t until well past six a.m. the next morning that he was able to wake himself.

When he managed to roll over and sit himself up Wonshik found a wrapped package next to him adorned with a note. Scratched out roughly in Hakyeon’s handwriting it read; **_Perhaps this sword will help and I would’ve said something yesterday if I thought you were going to listen, but sleep is needed as well as strength. However it seems you took my silent advice whether it was of your own will or not so good luck._**

Wonshik only barely managed to make himself eat the food he had packed for the previous day on account of his excitement to see if his idea would pan out. Surely with around eleven or so hours of rest under his belt and a lighter sword he could manage 15 strikes. So with a small serving of rice and kimchi he was up and ready to begin. Although his newfound enthusiasm for practicing would quickly fade the sounds of the market managed to keep his interests up.

He always did enjoy watching people and listening in on their everyday mundane conversations. It wasn’t him trying to be invasive but rather he used what he heard to imagine a life where he would be free of his abuse and living happily in a loving family. Of course living in the capital of Silla, Kŭmsŏng, he managed to hear a lot more thrilling tales as well. These fed into his fantasies of living a life of romance and intrigue within Wolseong Palace danger be damned. 

Today as Wonshik went through the sequence he couldn’t exactly make out what was being said but it didn’t stop him from imagining. With the festival now only two days away he was sure they were talking of all the performances that would be given including dances, plays, puppet shows, and those of the musical sort. Even now as his sweat poured down his face and his feet and arms moved in quick succession he could hear people practicing. Somewhere Wonshik could hear a myriad of instruments playing Samhyeon-Nyukgak.

Performances were Wonshik’s true love and the music drifting through the air was enough to pull his thoughts away from his father's threats and the task at hand. Before he could notice or stop himself his body started moving in a way to compliment the music. It wasn’t exactly in time but rather in a rhythmic pattern that suited the instruments quite well. Along with not noticing his movements had drifted he did not hear the slew of footsteps that were coming down along the path. Nor did he notice how they turned into just one person’s footsteps just before anyone came into view of the clearing. He was only snapped out of it by a voice behind him that spoke up and made him almost fall for a second time in only a day.

“How intriguing. What do you call this...dance you’re doing?” He may not have fallen, but Wonshik was surely scared shitless and jumped in the air before turning around, chest heaving. Before him stood one of the most handsome men he had ever met dressed in what looked like the finest silk on the whole peninsula. Wonshik may have hailed from a noble family, but one of warriors who didn’t find much out of dressing up in finer clothing. They were satisfied with the same simple clothing that the commoners would wear. Even for the few nice pieces they wore when meeting other nobility they weren’t quite as nice as this.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know almost anyone who comes here ends up dying?”

“Then why are you here my dear flower?”The man, or rather boy as he wasn’t much older than Wonshik, had advanced on him and lifted his hand to grasp Wonshik’s chin. “How do you know that I’m not the one that’s been killing them all?”

**Author's Note:**

> As I said above and as you can see this will be multi chaptered so hopefully the length and all that won't scare you from coming back and reading this. If you wanna check me out I'll leave where you can do that.  
> Twitter : @DyslexicBat  
> Tumblr: Maknaes-and-Hyungs  
> Curious Cat: curiouscat.me/BlindDyslexicBat


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